2 Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Edgar Earldom, Edgar household

Amon Edgar, the eldest of the Edgar siblings, has a distinctive appearance. With a triangular face shape, short straight red hair, and almond-shaped black eyes framed by straight eyebrows, he stands out. His skin is tanned, complementing his fiery hair, and he has a thin, small nose. Despite his tall stature of 5'11", Amon retains some baby fat in his cheeks, adding a youthful touch to his appearance.

As Amon made his way towards his father's chamber, the resonant timbre of his father's voice echoed through the corridor.

"...situation in the south?"

Amon's curiosity piqued, causing him to pause just outside the door. He leaned in, straining to catch the conversation within. Another voice, familiar to him as that of his father's advisor, Fenon, answered his father's question.

"The tension has escalated significantly as of late. Several imperial soldiers have been discovered dead in the past month or so. Dence, Burough, and Yleim duchies are mobilizing large war bands under the guise of feywood extermination. It appears that war is imminent, my lord."

Dread seeped into Amon's being, weakening his legs as he grappled with the weight of impending conflict. The prospect of civil war filled him with dread, not just for himself but also for his siblings. It was a scenario he had never envisioned facing.

A heavy silence descended upon the chamber, broken only by a resounding sigh of resignation that reached Amon's ears before his father spoke.

"Do you wish to keep me waiting, boy?"

A wave of embarrassment washed over Amon as he heard his father's reprimand. Despite his discomfort, he pushed open the door without hesitation.

Amon is greeted by torchlight dancing against rich velvet curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. A crackling fireplace which added comfort. An oak desk cluttered with scrolls and quills hints at administrative duties. Plush armchairs invite conversation in a sumptuous sitting area, adorned with tapestries depicting ancestral deeds. Andros was sitting in one of the armchair with Fenon standing beside him.

Andros was a man who was in his prime at just fifty years old. He had long life ahead of him as an master ether user. Amon had inherited his fiery red hair from his father. Andros was a man with well defined body. With a sharp triangular face and dark brown eyes adoring his face only some wrinkles hinted at his age.

"Father."

A sense of relief washed over Amon as he managed to maintain a calm demeanor while greeting his father. A small glimmer of joy flickered within him, evident on his face, as Andros, his father, lifted an amused eyebrow at him.

As Fenon stepped away, Andros rose from his seat and approached Amon, his expression a tumultuous mix of emotions before settling into a sad smile.

"I have to ask you for forgiveness, my son. For I have failed my duty as your father to keep you safe."

Amon's mind raced with questions. What could his father be referring to? Was it related to the civil war? As an Earl's son, Amon seemed an unlikely candidate for direct involvement in such conflict.

The civil war seemed beyond his father's control, ruling it out as the cause. Andros typically shielded himself from external burdens beyond his control. So, what aspect could potentially impact Amon and be within Andros's purview?

His thoughts circled back to the civil war. But how could Amon be directly implicated?

"Prince's war band?" Amon blurted out, his conclusion forming rapidly in his mind. Andros's small smile confirmed Amon's suspicion.

A war band for Prince Damian? It seemed the most plausible explanation. A surge of excitement flooded through Amon's veins. A war band led by a prince would likely boast numerous Art masters. The prospect of fighting alongside them was a dream come true for Amon.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, father. I shall bring glory to the Edgar family."

"The youth's grandeur," Fenon remarked, drawing Amon's glare. Before he could retort, Andros intervened, instructing Amon to prepare for departure.

"You will be accompanied by a handful of soldiers on your journey to Estersa estate, where you will rendezvous with other members of this newly forming war band. From there, you will all travel to Aloit to greet your prince. Your journey begins in a few days. Go and bid farewell to your siblings and your mother. We will speak again on the day of your departure."

"As you wish, father," Amon replied, his mind already racing with preparations and farewells.

Amon exited the chamber as instructed by his father, leaving Fenon and Andros to converse further.

"Amon is a bright boy, my lord," Fenon remarked, standing beside Andros. "And you yourself know of his skill with Ether. I think he will fit in just fine in the palace."

"That he undoubtedly will. I am more worried about him joining Erebus," Andros replied with a note of concern.

"...That would be unfortunate," Fenon responded, his voice trailing off as he contemplated the implications of the message they had received from emperor quite a few years ago.

"I have hope that Amos might not lose himself completely in near future. Alas, that feels more and more like a wish of a father. No matter, we have other concerns that we will need to deal now."

Andros shifted the conversation away from Amos, focusing instead on the impending civil war.

____

As Amon stepped out of the grand estate, his gaze swept across the sprawling grounds, searching for any sign of his elusive younger brother, Anos. With a resigned sigh, he set off, his footsteps echoing against the cobblestones as he navigated the maze of gardens and winding pathways.

Amon's brow furrowed in concentration as he pondered the myriad places Anos might be hiding or exploring. Perhaps he had ventured into the dense forest at the edge of the estate, lost in his own world of imagination and adventure. Or maybe he had sought refuge in the library, buried beneath a mountain of books as he delved into the realms of ancient lore. It was unlikely to be the latter, but you never know.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, Amon's keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure perched atop a stone bench in the rose garden. Anos sat with his back to Amon, his attention seemingly captured by something in the distance.

With a mischievous grin dancing on his lips, Amon's hand shimmered with ethereal energy as he conjured a small ball of water, his eyes alight with anticipation. Without a sound, he hurled the water ball at Anos' unsuspecting head, relishing in the surprised yelp that escaped his brother's lips.

Anos whirled around, his expression a mix of outrage and indignation, only to find Amon's grinning face looming before him. Fuelled by a mixture of annoyance and amusement, Anos launched a swift jab at Amon, who narrowly avoided the blow with a deft lean to the side.

But Anos was not finished yet. With a determined glint in his eye, he lunged forward, tackling Amon to the ground with surprising force, the impact knocking the breath from Amon's lungs.

Refusing to give his younger brother the last laugh, Amon tapped into his superior strength, swiftly flipping Anos over and pinning him to the ground with practiced ease.

Both brothers grinned at each other, before standing up and dusting themselves off.

"Look at what you have done to the garden."

Amos spoke with mock rebuke.

"But it was you!!"

Amon chuckled at Anos' accusation, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Ah, but you see, dear brother, it was merely an innocent act of mischief. Mother has no need to learn of this little brother, I assure you."

Anos grinned sheepishly, realizing the folly of his response. "Right, right. Our little secret then."

With a conspiratorial nod, the brothers sealed their pact, their bond strengthened by yet another shared moment of mischief.

"So, what had you so captivated, little brother? You were staring off into the distance like you'd seen a ghost."

"I saw a small horde of fey. It was really weird as it is not yet time for them to migrate."

Amon was pulled back to the topic of civil war. Fey were creatures who were said to be able to detect wars and huge battles and avoided those places like plague. Fey were peaceful creature whose presences was considered as a good omen in ancient lore. The perception had changed in present time, especially to the south.

"Civil war"

Muttered Amon under his breath. Anos looked sickened at the word. Suddenly, Amon realized his brother detested the brewing civil strife far more than he did. Shame washed over him as he remembered his own excitement upon learning he'd join the prince's war-band.

"I will be joining the prince's war-band."

"What!?!" Anos exclaimed, alarmed.

"But, you're just a kid."

"And you're just a pipsqueak," Amon teased, noting Anos's shorter stature.

"Why you? Take that back!"

"Or what?" Amon quirked a brow in amusement.

"Argh! You're the worst," Anos huffed, turning away from Amon.

"Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, little brother," Amon replied, patting Anos, who reluctantly allowed the gesture.